


can't get you out of my veins

by softambrollins



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Feelings, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Getting Together, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, Reunions, Romance, a lot of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 23:05:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13961997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softambrollins/pseuds/softambrollins
Summary: Nothing's ever really fixed this one urge. He's tried to bury it. Tried to destroy it. Tried to rip it out. Tried to kill it with hate and pain and rage. It's never worked. He thought distance would make it fade. Then, he thought staying close would build up his resistance.He's never really been that good at controlling his impulses. Well, at least not until this. Not until it was something that really matters. Something that truly scares the fuck out of him.But it's been months without wrestling, and weeks without seeing Seth, and somehow, it's the latter that really tears him up inside.





	can't get you out of my veins

**Author's Note:**

> This is even more self-indulgent than usual. But I've had this idea in my head for a long time, and I just needed to get it out so I don't go insane.

He gets this feeling sometimes when he's been still for too long. It starts as a faint itch, just a tiny urge in the back of his mind, and the more he tries to tamp it down, the bigger it gets, until it's about to swallow him whole, until he's about to crawl out of his skin. That would usually be when he went out, got wasted, trashed a bar, punched someone in the face — but he's older now, things are different. Now it's driving down a empty highway in the middle of the night as far as the road goes, or cycling through the scorching desert heat without braking for anything, or racing to the top of a mountain and looking down, lungs on fire and heart about to burst. Nothing else exists then, just him and the earth and the wide, open sky. Everything's simple and as it should be.

Wrestling still helps to burn off the restless energy, maybe it's the only thing that really does, maybe that's why he does it in the first place. It's strange to be the guy who feels most at peace when he's lying on his back in the middle of the ring, staring up at the lights, surrounded by blood and broken bodies and twisted metal and shattered glass, always ready to get right back up again, always ready to start throwing more fists. But that's just who Dean's always been.

He has a strange feeling this time though, that even if he could get back in the ring right now, it still wouldn't be the cure for this.

Nothing's ever really fixed this one urge. He's tried to bury it. Tried to destroy it. Tried to rip it out. Tried to kill it with hate and pain and rage. It's never worked. He thought distance would make it fade. Then, he thought staying close would build up his resistance.

He's never really been that good at controlling his impulses. Well, at least not until this. Not until it was something that really matters. Something that truly scares the fuck out of him.

But it's been months without wrestling, and weeks without seeing Seth, and somehow, it's the latter that really tears him up inside.

No amount of alcohol or reckless driving or risking life and limb is gonna make this better. Maybe it's time to actually take a risk on something that's worth more than anything else ever has been.

*

It's weird being backstage at a show without really _being_ there. He's spent more than half his life in places like these. No matter where in the world he goes, it's always safe and familiar and comfortable. It's where he feels at home. Maybe that's why he's been avoiding coming to shows while he's been hung up. Being here and knowing he's not going out that curtain is too hard. Staying at home and watching it on TV and feeling sorry for himself has just felt like the better choice. 

But maybe it's _because_ of everything he's seen on TV in the last couple weeks that he has to be here now. 

Seth's different now — he's not the guy he first met or the guy he became friends with or the guy who betrayed and abandoned him. He's not even the guy who practically begged for his forgiveness last year. Seth's been through his own share of loss and pain and heartbreak. And Dean's seen how he's still struggling with all his shame and regret and self-loathing over the last few months — but it had gotten better over time, with every match, every crowd, every night standing out there side-by-side with Dean, fighting with everything he had. _Being_ the man he wanted to be. Not just for himself, but for Dean, for Roman, for the fans who stood by him through everything. It wasn't an easy road, just like forgiving him wasn't easy, but a part of him recognises that Seth had to go through all of that to reach this point. He's the person Dean always knew he could be, and it's pretty overwhelming to see his transformation.

He can't deny that a part of him feels jealous that he's not out there too, but mostly he just wants to be there for Seth. Be by his side to see all the amazing things he's doing. To share it with him. It's a strange sensation. Especially after Dean's spent so much time alone in his life that he's basically just resigned himself to always being that way. But everything between him and Seth has always felt unprecedented. 

He just wants him to be happy. 

And with that realisation comes another. That he doesn't think _he_ can really be happy without Seth. 

*

He runs into Roman first and he doesn't even question his presence there. Like he knew he just had to give him time, the way Roman always knows everything. He just hugs him and tells him how happy he is to see him. He feels pretty bad about how much of a miserable asshole he's been on the phone with him lately. And everyone else, basically.

They're just about to head over to catering — Roman had insisted, although Dean really doesn't want the attention, and he usually avoids being around that many people anyway — when Seth comes around the corner and just _stops_ , his big, brown, baby deer eyes even wider than they usually are. Dean can't help but just smile at him. He's wearing what he always wears, dark skinny jeans, black t-shirt, hoodie. His hair's up in a messy bun and his beard isn't as thick as it was the last time, but it looks just as soft. It always surprises him how _young_ Seth can look like this; he's more vulnerable now in ways Dean never imagined he could be.

The last time he saw Seth was after Elimination Chamber. They didn't talk much, it was late and Seth was exhausted, so they just had a drink out on the porch and watched the stars dotting the inky blue, midnight sky over the desert. But he told him he was sorry he wasn't there for the match, and Seth had just nodded and said he understood, like he really meant it. Because Seth knows what this is like better than anyone — he remembers when he told him about watching Wrestlemania from the sky box two years ago, how it had physically hurt to just be a spectator, to be looking in from the outside. He never wanted to feel like that again. Dean can imagine all too clearly. Just the thought of watching Wrestlemania in a couple weeks from his living room makes him want to fucking hit something. And his arm's already fucked-up as it is.

Seth looks like he's about to say something, then seems to decide against it, and instead pulls him into a tight hug that lasts a bit longer than it probably should. It would be awkward if it wasn't _them_. 

Then, he suddenly lets him go and just stares at him, blinking slowly.

"Wait, you're not — _back_ , are you?" he asks, unsure, confused, and almost...hopeful.

"No, not cleared yet," Dean says, shaking his head. "I wish I was, man." 

And now he feels kind of bad for just showing up here without any warning. 

Seth has to try really hard to hide the deflated expression on his face. "Oh," he says, not quite looking at him now.

Some small part of him wants to reach out and touch him, take his hand, make him look at him again. Tell him he's sorry. Tell him how much he misses him. It's the kind of impulse he has to fight to suppress. It's getting harder and harder, though. He's not sure he wants to anymore.

Roman seems to sense the tension in the air and quickly asks, "So, how's the PT going?"

Dean takes a breath, turns to him, says, "Good, shouldn't be too long again. Can't let you guys keep having all the fun without me."

Seth doesn't say much after that, as the conversation turns to the Chamber match and 'Mania and Brock and everything else that's been going on, which is very unlike him. Dean notices that he looks distracted, almost nervous, and although Dean always knows when something's bothering him, it's rare that he doesn't even try to mask it.

Eventually, Roman directs a question right at him and he finally looks up, startled. "What?"

Roman just looks amused. "Said we were gonna go chill out before the show. You coming, man?"

"Umm, I can't, I got some stuff to see about first. I'll see you guys later, okay?" he says, tone all weird and stiff.

And Seth's just walking away back to his locker room and it feels like something's been taken from him again, another lost opportunity, and he's just — tired of it. All of it.

Roman just looks at him questioningly. Dean gives him the universal signal for "one minute" and Roman just nods significantly before taking off.

He catches up to Seth right outside the locker room door, makes himself reach out and gently wrap his fingers around his wrist to stop him.

Seth looks up at him, something like alarm in his eyes.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a second?" he asks, as casually as is possible in this exact moment.

Seth just nods at him, says, "Okay," and Dean follows him inside.

Seth seems to give him as much space as he can before he turns to look at him, and it's fucking terrible. They've both been so fucking bad at this. Dean can still hear all the guilt in Seth's voice every time he talks to him; he always sounds so strange and distant and almost scared...that maybe it wasn't ever meant to be, that maybe Dean's gonna realise he still hates him after all, that maybe they're actually fucking doomed. And all Dean wants is for Seth to stop fucking worrying so much about him. He wants him to have everything he wants, without feeling guilty about it. After everything that they've been through to get back together, it's pretty fucking typical of them to spend so much effort trying to push each other away again.

"What's up?" Seth asks quietly, eyes narrowed, almost in concern. "Everything okay with —?"

And his palms are suddenly itching again, sweating — he has to curl them into fists so they won't visibly shake. He tries to take a long breath in, then out, tries to even out the staccato beating in his chest. It doesn't do much good. And then he just can't stand it anymore. 

Can't stop himself from doing what he's wanted to for weeks and months and years — firmly pressing Seth back against the nearest solid surface and kissing him as hard and long and deep as he can.

Seth's body goes completely pliant against him for a moment before he lets out a soft sigh and kisses back, just as fierce, mouth opening under his, arms winding up around his neck, fingers curling into his hair.

It's somehow both rough and gentle at the same time, which he should've expected. It's always been all push-pull between them, constantly trading off giving in completely and taking everything they want. Whether it's wrestling or arguing or the kind of raw, open conversations they would have sometimes in hotel rooms under the cover of dark. It's the way they look at each other. It's always all-or-nothing. There's no hiding or lying to each other. It's just being utterly exposed. He's never more vulnerable than he is with Seth, and this is no different.

Seth's grip tightens on his hair, like he's trying to ground himself in the moment, and it's just the right side of painful — and he responds by tugging his bottom lip between his teeth, softly nibbling at it. And Seth's body just palpably shudders against his, and he uses the advantage to get even closer, his hips pinning Seth's to the table behind them, his knee pressed in between Seth's legs. He moves his good arm from Seth's waist to up under his shirt, wanting to feel as much skin as he can. He flicks his tongue against Seth's upper lip and Seth's mouth opens wider to suck it in, brushing against his own — 

And it's suddenly a bit too much, too intense and hot and breathless, and Seth has to break away with a gasp.

"What — what are you doing?" Seth says, sounding kind of dazed and all out of breath.

"What I came here to do," he says, recognising that as the truth as he says it.

"Are you — are you serious?" he asks, looking genuinely stunned.

"I've wanted to do this for a long fucking time," he tells him honestly. It's probably the first time he's ever admitted that, even to himself.

Seth just pauses then, eyes going out of focus, looking like his brain's going a million miles an hour. But then Dean sees him take a breath to steady himself, before licking his lips, swallowing hard, and seemingly shaking the surprise off. He lifts his gaze back up to Dean's face, one corner of his mouth curving into the slightest hint of an almost shy smile. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you," he confesses.

Seth's the one who kisses him first this time, and it's slower, but just as good — he can really feel all of it acutely now: the contrast of the softness of his mouth with the graze of his beard, his firm, warm chest flush against his own, his heartbeat just as erratic as the one pounding in his own ears, the way his quiet, ragged breathing sounds this close up and feels against his lips, the silkiness of his dark hair when he threads his fingers through it like he's always wanted to, bun coming loose, even messier than before, strands spilling out everywhere —

There's a moment when they just stop — lips barely parted but not touching, eyes open, just looking at each other, foreheads resting against each other, Dean's palm against the line of Seth's jaw, thumb lightly stroking his cheek, Seth's hands both clinging to Dean's jacket — and it's somehow more intimate than anything else he's ever felt.

He leans back in, noses brushing, kissing him soft and chaste and delicate. Seth just hums into it, content, relaxed.

Then, there's a knock on the door. It's genuinely startling, abruptly breaking the spell.

Seth makes a low noise of frustration before pulling away again, but not too far. "Sorry. That's for me. Gotta go sort some things out before the show."

"Oh, right," Dean says, nodding, trying hard not to sound disappointed. It's funny, how easy it is to forget about reality and work and other people when it's just him and Seth.

"I'll see you after, okay?" Seth promises him, eyes meeting his intently.

"Yeah, sure, man," Dean says quietly. 

Seth just ducks in to press a quick kiss to his cheek before he's gone.

Leaving Dean standing there wondering if that really just happened.

*

Roman finds them after the show when they're just standing around, chatting about Seth's match, how fucking great he was, how fucking much Dean wishes he was out there with him too.

"Hey, y'all wanna get outta here?" he asks. "Beers on me."

Seth opens his mouth to answer but Dean beats him to it. "Sorry, man, we kinda made other plans."

And then, mostly to be an asshole, and just because he fucking wants to, he reaches out and takes Seth's hand, laces their fingers together. Still looking Roman right in the face with a perfect shit-eating grin. Making his meaning entirely clear.

Seth goes so red, it's almost concerning, and his eyes are practically glued to the floor.

Roman just looks surprised for all of two seconds. He moves his gaze from Dean to Seth and then back again. And then he just nods. "Okay, I'll see you boys tomorrow then." Like somehow it all makes perfect sense.

Then he just pats Dean on the shoulder and takes off.

Seth finally lets out a breathless laugh.

"I hate you so much," he tells Dean.

He doesn't let go of his hand though.

Dean smiles at him knowingly, shakes his head. "No, you don't."

*

Dean doesn't even wait a minute when they're back in Seth's hotel room before he presses him up against the door and licks his mouth open, hot and eager. He's not sure how he lived without this before. Now that he has it, it feels like oxygen. Like every second he's not near him, touching him, kissing him is a second wasted. They've already wasted so much goddamn time, hurting each other, trying and failing to hate each other, resigning themselves to being alone, breaking each other's and their own hearts over and over again — 

There's nothing guarded or hesitant about the way Seth kisses him back, just as fervent, almost desperate. He puts his hands all over his body, sliding his fingers up under his jacket and then under the hem of his t-shirt, palms fitting themselves against the curve of his spine, and Dean silently curses his injured arm, limiting his range of mobility. It doesn't stop him from pinning Seth's hips to the door with his own and running his left hand underneath Seth's shirt, tracing the line of his firm abs before wandering behind him and slipping into his back pocket, pulling him closer. The friction and heat from grinding against each other through their jeans causes a spark of pleasure to ripple through his entire body.

And Seth's too, given the way he moans into his mouth. They break for a second, taking in lungfuls of air, and Seth takes the opportunity to reach up and help him shrug his jacket off his shoulders.

Seth rests his forehead against Dean's for a moment before he kisses him again, less intense than before, slow and easy and familiar, both hands framing his face. Seth walks him backwards until his knees hit the edge of the bed and he just goes with gravity and lets himself fall back onto it.

Dean grabs his hand and reels him in as he goes, so he's standing between his legs. Seth takes a breath before he rests both hands on Dean's thighs on either side of him. Dean just looks up at him, head tilted back, expectant, and then Seth moves even impossibly closer, loosely wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling him in towards his own body. Seth rests his chin on top of Dean's head, cradling him against his chest, and they stay like that for a while, Dean sliding his hands up Seth's back, the soft cotton of Seth's shirt against his cheek, absorbing the smell and touch of him, listening to his heartbeat right against his ear, feeling his breath tousling his hair. And Dean's never felt anything like this before; it feels like their bodies were meant to fit together like this. Like this is where they were always going to end up. The attraction and connection they've always felt for each other would eventually be too strong to resist. It feels like there's nothing else in the world right now but them. It feels like they could stay like this forever and he would be content. Happy.

They separate after a minute or two, Dean raising his head to meet Seth's eyes again. Then he reaches up and rests a gentle hand on his cheek. Seth just looks at him for a second before he covers Dean's hand with his own, keeping it there, and then he turns his face into it and kisses his palm so tenderly that it steals his breath away.

In one fluid motion, Dean pulls him down on top of him on the bed, Seth straddling his lap. And Dean holds him against him so close, hands on the sides of his face, Seth's hair falling into his eyes, both of them breathing in sync. He slowly brushes almost reverent, open-mouthed kisses everywhere he can reach, to his cheekbone, the corner of his mouth, his jaw, then his neck, tasting salt and skin. Seth's arms are tightly wrapped around his shoulders, hands clutching at his hair, his lips pressed soft and warm against Dean's ear, his temple, his forehead — 

Seth creates the smallest distance between them so he can carefully pull Dean shirt over his head, and then his own. He looks down at Dean's arm, eyes going dark and solemn, then lightly grazes his fingers over the brace, from his elbow up his arm, before leaning down and dropping a kiss on his shoulder.

Seth catches his gaze again and Dean slides his body further back on the mattress, the momentum carrying Seth with him, until he's on top of him, knees bracketing his hips. Dean puts his hands in his hair to drag him down to him, bare skin sliding against bare skin, pulling him into a kiss that feels like it lasts forever.

Eventually, Seth pulls away but only so he can put his lips to his neck instead. He kisses a line down the centre of Dean's chest, his thick beard tickling his skin, making him shiver all over.

"You're so fucking beautiful," Seth murmurs against the sensitive skin on his stomach. And Dean almost can't bear it anymore. 

He pulls Seth back up to his eye level, using the leverage to hook a leg around Seth's and flip them both over so he's on top.

When he leans down to meet his lips, he can really feel how hard Seth is under him. He manages to slip his hand down between them, pops the button on his jeans, and slides his hand inside Seth's underwear. Seth makes a soft, keening noise against his lips when his fingers close around him that only stokes the fire building inside him. 

It's a bit awkward with his left hand, but Seth doesn't seem to mind, from the way he's quivering under him, desperately thrusting upwards into his fist. 

"God, Dean, your _hands_ ," he sighs, head thrown back, eyes closed, breathing hard. He looks like a beautiful mess. 

Dean buries his face in Seth's neck when he works Dean's jeans open in turn, gets a hand around him, stroking him agonisingly slowly. 

It doesn't take long before they're spilling into each other's hands, Seth's nails digging into Dean's back, Dean uttering some cut-off swears against Seth's collarbone, holding on to each other so tightly. 

*

What feels like a lifetime later, they're lying curled together on Seth's bed. Seth's head on Dean's chest, hair fanned out around him, his cheek pressed to Dean's heart, gently breathing against his skin, their fingers tangled together on Dean's stomach. It's so quiet and still that he kind of doesn't want anything to ever end this moment.

Of course, it can't last forever.

"So...maybe we should talk about this," Seth eventually says, shifting away from Dean slightly, propping himself up on his elbows and turning to look at him. His expression says he's actually trying very hard to be serious about this.

"I thought we already did," Dean replies, caught a bit off-guard.

Seth just tilts his head at him.

"Okay, fine, I was joking," he says, not entirely convincing.

"Really?" Seth says, skeptical but fond at the same time.

"I just — I thought — I want _you_ , you want _me_. It's simple, right?" Dean says, feeling slightly uncertain for the first time.

"Since when has anything been simple between us?" Seth asks. And Dean can't exactly argue with that.

Dean slides back on the bed a couple inches until he's sitting up, leaning against the headboard.

"Okay," he says, looking at him. "So, what do you wanna talk about?"

Seth just doesn't say anything for a while, obviously doing some deep considering.

"Seriously?" Dean asks, amused. "Usually, you can't shut up. And you were the one who said you wanted to talk —"

"I just want to know — if you're sure about this," he finally says, tone cautious. 

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean… Aren't you scared? That you're going to get hurt again?" Seth asks, hushed, a vulnerable look in his eyes. 

"I don't know," Dean says honestly. "Do you think you could do that to me again?" 

"No, I don't ever want to. But I have a tendency to fuck things up when they're too good. It's like I don't trust it. To last."

"Well, I trust _you_ ," Dean tells him firmly. "Maybe that can be enough for now."

It's not fair, really, that the things that mean the most always feel so certain and so precarious at the same time. Loving something forever just ensures that when you don't have it anymore that the damage is catastrophic. It's like wrestling: you give it every single piece of your heart and body and soul for years and decades and your entire life and it can all be taken from you in the blink of an eye. Nothing ever lasts. Dean learned that a long time ago. And having so much to lose just means the resultant blastwave is going to take a big chunk of your heart and your life and your world with it. 

Or maybe it means you hold onto what you have as tightly and as long as you can. 

And sometimes the inevitable loss is worth it anyway. 

"What about you? Are you sure?" Dean asks, because he feels like he has to.

"You know I'm kind of stupidly in love with you, right?" Seth says, not even pausing to think about it this time. 

Dean just nods quietly to himself. "Well, that's good," he says after a moment. "Because so am I."

"Okay," Seth says softly, bringing Dean's right hand to his mouth, gently kissing it before letting go. "I guess we'll go from there."


End file.
